Self Discovery 101
by Kameka
Summary: Life as seen by Taylor Woodall. Chapter oneprologue is the explanation, and the subsequent chapters are journal entries. Possible spoilers for any episode in the series entries with spoilers for specific episodes will be marked as such. Rating is for a f
1. Prologue: The Assignment

**Title**: Self Discovery 101

**Author**: Kameka

**Rating**: G, possibly PG in the future. There is some minor swearing, nothing you wouldn't hear on a family show, really (or anything that couldn't be turned in to a teacher.)

**Disclaimers**: No infringement is intended. The characters of Wild Card do not belong to me, though any original characters do. Richard Todd (being an original character) is based on one of my old science teachers who, yes, did jump on desks (broke 3 of them), walked across them and cabinets, and was basically entirely random in how he did things (which including putting jars that contained live snakes, scorpions, or spiders on your desk without warning.) Some of the topics used in this series/story may be based on (and modified slightly) _The Writer's Idea Book_ by Jack Heffron. No infringement is intended there, either.

**Notes**: I originally had this idea when I was wandering through the library and found a book that looked interesting. I checked _The Writer's Idea Book_ out of my local library that day, and quite often until I finally broke down and bought my own copy. The book contains over 400 prompts to help writers try to get over blocks or look at things in new ways. I've done a few and they can be a lot of fun, actually, but some are, in my mind, very reminiscent of journal entries my English teachers had the class do. I decided to adapt some of the prompts for this purpose, using them to explore the character of Taylor Woodall: how she thinks, reacts, what she believes, etc. I picked Taylor because, although I don't like a lot of what she does onscreen, I do find her to be a somewhat interesting character. The onscreen sometimes spoiled teen can't be all there is to her. I don't know how often I'll be updating this story, but I will work on her various entries in addition to the rest of my stories. Each one will be basically stand alone, with the topic at the beginning of each chapter. Oh, and I wrote this _before_ the guy who died by going out a window in "Multiple Personality Fatality." I didn't steal the standing-on-the-desk thing from there. My science teacher really did do that lol

**Summary**: Life as seen by Taylor Woodall. Chapter one/prologue is the explanation, and the subsequent chapters are journal entries. Possible spoilers for any episode in the series -- entries with spoilers for specific episodes will be marked as such.

SD101...SD101

Taylor Woodall smiled and shook her head, laughing as she talked with some of her friends. It was the first day of school and this was her third class of the day. Finding a seat slightly off to one side but still in the basic center of the large group of desks, she sat down, dropping her bag to the floor and letting the books she'd collected so far fall onto the desk with a thump. The second bell, a warning one, rang and the students still in the hallways shuffled towards their classes slowly, filing into them and finding seats for themselves. The final bell rang a scant minute later and doors could be heard shutting up and down the hallways. Looking around the room she was in, she was surprised to find almost every spare inch of the walls covered with posters of animals, classic art, and various bands. Even areas of the ceiling had pictures taped to it. It was unlike any classroom she'd ever been in, the institution cream, white, and beige gone under the onslaught of blues and greens, pinks and reds, yellows and oranges; a rainbow of color that drew the eye and was almost guaranteed to wake a student up to be both energized and enthusiastic.

"Welcome to your new English class," the slim, casually dressed man said as he turned away from the large blackboard -- which was also covered in chalk drawings -- that took up most of one wall in the classroom and looked over the bored students. "I'm Richard Todd. This is, as always, an all-year course and required for graduation. I'm sure that you all know each other by now," he gestured, "so we'll just get right down into the nitty-gritty."

Taylor sat through roll-call and the teacher making sure that he could see who each student was before continuing onto the next. Startled, she watched as Mr. Todd shook his head slightly and began to pace the length of the room, apparently too restless to sit down or stand still. Even his clothes were out of character for a teacher, she decided. Jeans that fit almost too tightly -- showcasing a truly wonderful butt; the very fact that she noticed such a detail caused Taylor to sink slightly in her seat as her cheeks began to heat -- and a simple T-shirt emblazoned with a cartoon. A slightly worn leather jacket was visible where it was thrown over the top of his desk, almost as if he didn't expect to sit there long enough to work.

"I'm sure that all of you have had classes you've disliked, especially the core required courses of English, Science, and History. This class will be different," he promised.

"No work?" one of the smart-ass students called out, causing others to snicker.

"Oh, you'll be working." In a sudden move, he jumped onto a sturdy cabinet that lined the wall by the door and began pacing atop those, easily stepping over the papers and folders that were already littered on top. "But I believe in having fun while you learn. Don't get me wrong, here: you won't get a grade you don't earn," he warned amid groans.

"To me, one of the most important things about learning, even in school, is that you also learn about yourself. That's the important thing. That's what's going to help you out there in that chaotic mass we call the world," he gestured and stepped off of the cabinet ... onto the closest desk.

It was occupied by a pretty blonde girl, one that Taylor knew as one of the shyer people in the class, who looked up with wide eyes. He stepped immediately to the next desk, not even waiting as a jock scrambled to move his bag from the top of it. The stepping stone game continued until he was standing on top of his own desk, located in a far corner by the front of the classroom. As the impromptu game went on, he kept talking: "Reading all of Shakespeare's plays and being able to recite chapter and verse of the Canterbury Tales won't help you much. The ability to read, write, and understand what you do will. Understanding yourself is part of that." He immediately leapt down from it and continued to talk as if nothing had happened.

"In addition to the standard assignments you can expect, you will be keeping a journal while you're in this class."

"That's so fifth-grade!" a masculine voice rang out.

"It'll only be fifth-grade if you apply yourself as a fifth-grader would," Mr. Todd promised, "and write on that level," he teased.

Taylor, along with the majority of the rest of the class, turned to the jock who had spoken and laughed slightly.

"It's not a daily assignment. You'll be getting topic sheets at the beginning of class every Monday. Your journal may be turned in at any time on Friday. That means before, during, or after class. You have until the end of the day, as long as I receive it by the time I leave. If you cannot write on the topic you were given, you may choose to rewrite an earlier topic or come up with one of your own. Please write a note at the beginning of the entry to say what your topic is, even if you haven't changed it." He began handing out the first assignments. "You have a fifteen-hundred word minimum, no maximum. You may go slightly under once in a while. You may write in either a spiral bound notebook or on a computer. If you write on the computer, save to disk and turn it in to me. To be frank, I prefer the computer disk. They're easier to carry around with me," he told them with a grin. The honest statement caused a few of the students to laugh as they handed sheets to the students behind them.

"If it's private and you don't want me to read it, write a note at the beginning and I'll just check for length. I'm not here to read your deep, dark secrets and reveal them to the world. You cannot, however, mark all of them as private. I can tell you that I won't be reading through all of the entries I get every week or even the ones that you wrote every week. I'll be picking them at random and reading them."

"But then how do we know if you read ours?" It was the blonde from earlier who spoke up, her voice quiet.

"You won't," he answered with a laugh. "If you never know if I'm going to do more than skim yours, you can't just completely bullshit your way through the entire assignment," he reasoned. "Please make sure that your grammar and spelling are basically decent -- no obvious misspelled words. I do understand, of course, that this is harder if you're writing in a notebook and will grade accordingly. Your entries don't have to be report-perfect; just think of them as practice and do your best."

Reaching the far side of the room, the one where the cabinets and door were located, he slammed his hand down on the top of the cabinet, the noise causing the students to jump. "From now on, look here for your journal assignments when you come in or leave on Mondays. There will be copies here until every Thursday." He ran his hand up, tapping the wall right by the door. "I'll do printouts of your grades every week. New ones will be posted here on Mondays. Just look for your student number. They will not only contain the grades for assignments and tests, but also your current grade overall. Any questions?"

"What if we don't like our grades?"

Mr. Todd nodded slightly as he walked the length of the classroom again. "Come talk to me. Any report you do, I'll give you two possible grades: your current one and one that you will receive if you turn it in with corrections, if there are any to be made. If you turn it in with them, I'll change the grade. If you'd like extra credit assignments, we can discuss those." He sat down on the edge of his desk and scooted backwards slightly so he could draw his legs up Indian-style. "I'm not your enemy, guys. I'm your teacher, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm out to get you."

Taylor glanced around, unsure if she completely believed him. Teachers were always out to get the students, it seemed. Sure enough, none of the other students sitting around here looked like they believed the announcement.

"I'm not here to baby-sit you for an hour every day, which means that I'm not going to treat you like idiots or kids that need their hands held through every single assignment. I'm going to treat you like the adults you almost are and give you some breathing room. That means that yes, I will remind you about an assignment, but I expect you to remember it yourselves. I will explain the assignments to you when they are assigned and you may ask questions in class. After that, come to me if you don't understand something and I'll do my best to help you. Any questions?"

Taylor looked around at her fellow students, knowing that they were just as confused about this new teacher as she was. When there was no question forthcoming he immediately jumped from the desk with a large smile. "Great! Now it's time to pass out your new books!"

Taylor sighed and sank down a little further into the hard plastic chair, listening as the teacher explained about how he wanted their notebook to be kept and other ways he ran his class, resigning herself to another year of school and another heavy textbook to carry around. At least in this class her teacher seemed like he'd be fun part of the time and a lot more lenient about some things.

SD101...SD101

TBC in Journal Entry # 1

SD101...SD101

Reviews are welcome.


	2. JE 1: Who are you?

**Journal Entry # 1**

_Your first journal entry is an introduction from you to me. Begin with a sentence describing anything that is relevant to who you are. An example of this is: "My name is Richard Todd and I am a fourth-generation American of mixed ancestry that grew up in a semi-religious two-parent household in the state of New York." From there, write a few autobiographical paragraphs. Skim your childhood up to present day, including anything that you believe is relevant to the person you are at this point of your life. Remember to be truthful; very few lives are all sunshine and roses with no dark clouds._

My name is Taylor May Woodall and I am an American of mixed-European heritage raised in a middle-class, largely single-parent home in Chicago, Illinois. I am the eldest of three children, born in July of 1987 to David and Susan Woodall. My father is a musician devoted exclusively to his music and my mother an accountant devoted to her children. I was an only child for my early life, a condition that did not last long; my brother, Clifford James, was born when I was four years old. My childhood was fairly normal -- as normal as any, I suppose -- until I was eight. My life until then had been filled with friends and my dreams of growing up to become either a princess or a ballerina.

When I was eight, my sister, Hannah Rose, was born and my life changed. I've never told her before (and I never will), but I can't help but feel that her birth was the beginning of the end of the 'normal' Woodall household. Unable to handle the pressures and responsibilities of his growing family, my father left for what he considered greener pastures: life on the road with his band. A Daddy's Girl until that point, his leaving (I still find it hard to say 'abandonment') was extremely difficult for me, especially as I now had to help my mother more with not only a toddler Cliff, but an infant Hannah. The entirely objective part of my mind wonders how that was drastically different than when my father left for days-at-a-time gigs. The other (emotional) part of me shies away from that line of thought, preferring to remember his presence instead of his absence, the fun family times instead of the arguments between my parents and waking up with my father gone. I still find myself veering between two lines of thought: the first being that we are better off without him and the second that I wished he would come out and sweep me up into his arms the way he used to and that all my worries would melt away.

My schooling has been pretty typical for the most part. I've had teachers that I disliked, teachers I'll swear to the day I die that disliked me, and teachers I've liked. There have been classes where I've known no one and classes where I've known everyone. I received middle-of-the-line grades for the majority of my school career and finally have an explanation for those that were lower than I or my mother would have preferred: I was diagnosed with Ocularmotor Dysfunction last year. OMD is a learning disability where my eyes have difficulty focusing on specific words within lines of text. With some simple exercises that my family has helped with and a bit more time and understanding, I'm doing much better now. Knowing the problem has helped a lot.

Even with my difficulties in school and my single-parent home, my life has been good. I got basically everything I wanted, even things that, thinking about them now, I'm not sure how my mother could have afforded them. I babysat my siblings when needed, but my mom was modeled on Superwoman. There were few things that she asked me to do, and then only when she truly needed the help. She preferred to do everything on her own and be both parents to me and my siblings. I spent the majority of my childhood in a sort of indulged bubble, one that burst without warning last year.

While running an errand similar to thousands before, my mother's car was hit by a drunk driver and she was killed. The driver fled the scene and his lover, a married woman, lied to the police by telling them that the accident was my mother's fault. With her death, her sister came home to Chicago from Las Vegas, Nevada, where she'd been making her home for the past ten years. Single and without any children, my Aunt Zoe had never been in a parenting situation for any true length of time. At least not one where she couldn't give the child back to its' true parents after a set amount of time was finished. I hate to admit it, but I didn't make the adjustment for her -- or us -- any easier. The first day that she was here permanently, I lied to her and went out. Even after she caught me in that one, I did it again and snuck to a frat party, a mistake that I almost paid for with my life. One of the college students had slipped me a date rape drug in my soda and I would have been in real trouble if Aunt Zoe hadn't forced her way in to take me home.

In addition to all of this drama that I had created, my aunt was doing her best to investigate her sister's death in an effort to prove to the insurance company that the accident wasn't my mother's fault and that the family was owed the benefits that my mother had taken out. She was also searching for a job so that she could support her brand new dependants. In the end, her persistence paid off and she not only proved what she knew to be true regardless of police reports but landed a job at the insurance company as an investigator.

Zoe did -- and still does -- as much as she could for us, but she's not Mom. She needs help, especially since she was thrust into a demanding family and an equally demanding and time-consuming job while still reeling from her only sibling's death. Cliff and Hannah did as much as they could, but I just wanted my life back the way it used to be: when I didn't have to overly worry about my siblings (at least not acknowledge the worry aloud) or curb my own after-school activities to watch them. I wanted to be back in my bubble again, where everything as perfect as possible for me and I got almost everything I wanted with barely having to ask for it, let alone work for it. With that thought in mind, I did a few things that shame me to think of them now (although I doubt I'll ever tell anyone this out loud).

The next huge change in my life came from something that affects almost every teenage girl: the first 'adult' love. In my case, it was with a boy named Ryder Downey, whom I met after my best friend started dating my seriously cute neighbor that I'd been interested in. He and his mother moved here after his father's death and we met through my aunt's job. She was investigating a case of vandalism, something that Ryder was convinced was caused by ghosts. The fact that we had both lost parents recently drew us to each other and we soon became inseparable, much to my brother and sister's disgust. We're no longer together, Ryder having moved back to Columbus, Ohio, but I do know that my relationship with him is something I won't forget completely. Not only does a person rarely forget their first love, being with Ryder taught me so many things about myself. Though I admit that some of what I learnt I'd have preferred stayed covered, it was always something that I'd needed to have faced in my life sooner or later.

As for what I learned... I guess I have to say that the good and the bad are wrapped up together. I learned that I'm likely to run than to stay and confront things that I don't like. I learned that it's extremely easy for me to become completely wrapped up in things that I see as important and that makes me miss some of the things that truly are. I also learned that you can't fully make up for anything that you do wrong. You can try, but it's never 100.

The last lesson I learned when I essentially lied to both my aunt and my boyfriend because I wanted to go to a concert instead of having a "family night." I did go and really enjoyed myself. The music was incredible and Kings of Leon is one of my top ten bands. I knew that there'd be consequences for what I'd done, but I also knew that the price would be worth it. The great part of the night ended when I got home and found a note from my aunt's boyfriend telling me that she'd been shot and was in the hospital. It's like everything froze. This growing ache in my stomach battled with an overall numbness and all I could think was that I had to get to the hospital. I wasn't there for Cliff and Hannah when they needed me. I may be even more of an orphan than I already was... Aunt Zoe could have died and I would've been too busy enjoying a concert that I'd lied to go to that I wouldn't have known. Even that feeling wasn't the worst part of that night. The worst part was when I got to the hospital and Hannah told me she hated me. I know she was scared and she didn't really mean it, but at that moment... I felt the same way.

Since then, I guess I've been trying to be the kind of person I want to be. I've made a lot of mistakes -- some of them pretty big ones -- but I'm trying. Well, most of the time. My mom always told me that that was what's important: making the effort. Aunt Zoe says that it's more than half the battle right there. Based on my life so far (reading over this journal entry makes me wonder what type of person I really am and if there's any hope), I have a hell of a battle ahead of me, but I'm ready for it. Maybe I'll win, maybe I'll lose... But I won't know until I fight it.

SD101...SD101

To Be Continued? I originally meant this to be a series of journal entries, but I guess we'll see.

SD101...SD101

As always... Reviews are welcome.


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